


Hallelujah

by Adara_Rose



Series: Harry Potter head canon [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Heartbreak, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: On his deathbed, Seamus will only tell Hermione why.





	

The image shakes a little as she adjusts the camera angle, but soon it calms. The man in the bed, propped up against what seems like at least a dozen pillows, smiles a wan smile.

“Thanks for coming” he says, his forehead tight with pain. “And for not judging me." 

He looks down at hands that until recently were strong, but now have that worn look a body gets when its lost too much weight in too short a time. 

Poison will do that to a man.

“They say I won’t see the morning” he goes on, sounding impossibly tired. His dirty blond hair hangs limply around his gaunt cheeks. “I… I am grateful for that. They’ve all said their goodbyes.”

He picks at the blanket, which is old and worn and washed so many times it is as soft as a cloud. They only have that kind in the terminal ward. 

“I suppose I should feel bad. Me mum cried tonight. Held my hand and begged me to tell her what she’d done wrong. I don’t think-” he draws a deep breath, “I don’t think she’ll ever accept she ain’t done anything. That I… that I chose this. That I just…” he looks up, his green eyes full of so much pain for a moment she forgets to breathe. She wonders if it has always been there. “I can’t. I thought I could. But… there is a point you reach, you know? Where… where it hurts too much to keep breathing.” he laughs, bitterly. “The broken hallelujah.” 

Silence falls again. The evening is late, the room is darkening quickly. “When I fall asleep tonight” he whispers, “God’ll take me away. It’ll be over.” 

He leans back agianst the pillows, shifting a little to get comfortable.

“I suppose you’re here to ask why. Why, why, why. Everyone asks why. Seamus, you have your whole life ahead of you. Seamus, you’re so young. Seamus, why this. Why, why, why, why. I guess I might as well tell. So you’ll see just how pathetic I am.”

He closes his eyes, a beaten soldier that does not have any strength left to get up from the trenches and limp back home.

“I love him” he whispers, a tear slipping down a gaunt cheek. “I loved him when I met him and he knew. He just… didn’t love me. Not like that.”

He opens his eyes, and the look in them is like a sucker-punch to the chest. 

“I always said it was enough to be his best friend. Never knew I was that good a liar.” he smiles, slowly. “Irish charms, eh.”

“He… always came to me. When he was hurting. When some girl had… let him down. I put him back together after Ginny… he really loved her, you know? Was going to marry her, he said. I… I held him as he cried. I kissed his tears. I let him… I let him bury his pain in me. I carried it for him. Carried him. But he… he can’t carry me.”

He picks up the glass of water from the bedside table. His hand shakes, but he brings it to his mouth and drinks slowly.

“Hell of a party, the wedding. I got pissed of my arse and smiled until my cheeks ached more than my chest. But you already know that. You were there, after all. You were really pretty that night, you know? Not as pretty as the bride, but still.”

Most of the water is on his shirt at this point, but he manages to put the glass back on the table without dropping it.

“I think that night… that was when I knew. That…” he laughs, softly. “That I… I can’t.” Tears drip unbidden down gaunt cheeks, but he smiles.

“And by the time he gets back from his honeymoon I’ll be six feet under. It’s… it’s better.”

Silence.

“You know… there is a cure” he whispers. “But… but it’s agianst the law to administer it without my permission. Mam screamed at me for half an hour about that. Begged me to let them. She.. she doesn’t understand. They… they can’t heal what’s really broken. And I… I can’t smile anymore.”

He looks up, eyes pleading.

“You understand, don’t you?” 

He licks his dry lips.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, “I… I can’t be selfless anymore. I can’t whisper hallelujah anymore, I can’t hear the gospel over the sound of my heart breaking.” he lies back on the bed, defeated, exhausted. He’s done. He’s ready for it to be over.

“Will you stay with me” he whispers, “until I fall asleep.” 

She takes his hand. It’s cold.

“Thank you” he whispers, as he closes his eyes.

She sits still and quiet for several moments, listens to laboured breathing. Thinks of angels. Irish ones.

Finally, she leans forward. Whispers ‘hallelujah’. Takes the baby-soft blanket and pulls it up over his face. 

The camera clicks softly as it shuts off.

 


End file.
